Servitude
by Donmy
Summary: "All that I am: anger, cruelty, vengeance - I bestow upon you, my chosen knight. I have granted you immortality so that you may herald in a new, dark age for the Scourge. You will become my force of retribution. Where you tread, doom will follow."


:-:S E R V I T U D E:-:

"Where am I...? Who am I...?"  
"YOU ARE THE SERVITOR OF OUR LORD!"  
"What? Who said that?"  
"AWAKE, MINION. BRING ABOUT HIS WRATH!"  
Adaryn retched upright as if a figure of twisted agony and dementia. He whipped his head around in all directions, straining to see beyond the blue mist that hazed his eyes. He felt cold, empty. As if he had lost all joy left in life. He screamed out, a hollow, soulless scream. Chains shackled his limbs, keeping him from escaping the horror he had awoken to. He racked his mind for answers but found none. No memory of a past or present, and no feelings or hopes about the future. Confused and defeated, he crumpled to the ground. Hearing faint muffled voices he tried to call out, but no matter how he tried his voice failed him. Loud clangs resounded as he felt the binding chains release. He felt, rather than saw a figure stand in front of him. In a rush of freedom and anger Adaryn lashed out, reaching for the figure's throat. The shadow laughed cruelly and swatted him away with little effort.  
"IT IS USELESS TO RESIST. YOU ARE ONE OF US NOW."  
Then the voices came. Thousands of voices assaulted Adaryn's mind. Some screaming, others whispers. They continued relentlessly, pouring their commands into him.  
"KILL THE LIVING!"  
"SHOW NO MERCY!"  
"SERVE THE MASTER!"  
Adaryn, unable to block the voices out, writhed on the cold stone. More figures appeared around him, nothing but black shades with piercing eyes which showed no more mercy than the unceasing voices. Slowly, the voices began to take control. Adaryn lost his will to fight, his will to survive, and dropped to the ground motionless.  
"Arise, brother Adaryn. Arise and begin the legacy you were chosen to take part in."  
Adaryn rose. All traces of humanity gone from his features. His face was of cruel stone, and his eyes nothing more than glowing orbs of blue. Another figure behind him presented him with robes and a sword engraved with runes. Adaryn took the gear, eyes unblinking and face unmoving. He donned the robes and sheathed his sword. Sensing his presence was required above, he went straight for the balcony. There stood him. The master. The Lich King, Arthas Menethil. His lord turned, and gazed at Adaryn. Even with his new demeanor, Adaryn couldn't help but feel fear of this powerful being "BOW TO YOUR MASTER."  
Before he could even process the command his body had bowed, as if he was a puppet with whom the Lich King held the strings.  
"Hate, cruelty, vengeance, everything that I am I bestow upon you, my chosen knight. You have been granted immortality by myself in order for you to herald in a new, dark age for the Scourge. Doom will follow in your footsteps, as you perform your duty as my force of retribution. Go now and claim your destiny, Death Knight."  
Instantly, feelings of rage, hate, and anger flowed into Adaryn. He was a puppet, and he was happy with that. His stoney face began to curl into a sinister smile. He was joyful of the slaughter to come. Forget who he was or where he came from. All that mattered now, was his master, the Scourge, and his servitude.

Ruthlessly, Adaryn raized the countryside. Farmers, soldiers, and nobles alike fell uindiscriminetaly to his thirsty blade. Towns became ash, and from them more horrific undead rose. Their features twisted in frozen grins and bloody maws. To Adaryn, death was everything. Every time he sunk his sword into flesh, his greed and bloodthirst grew. He was no longer a man, but a primal beast. He stood there, in the flames. Listening to the sweet sounds of crying children and howling men. He looked to his feet, at the bloodied mess that was once the Militia Captain.  
"Foolish mortals. The Armsman of Death cannot be slain, he will destroy all in the name of the Lich King!"  
There was no remorse, no pity. Only the need for more meat. The sound of footsteps behind him caused him to whirl around and stab at the air. It was a woman who in another life he might have considered beautiful. Now however he saw only the ugliness of life in her. She was well equipped and obviously had more skills than that of the easily disposed of captain. His swords swept through the air making a sickly sound as it cut through the thick smoky air. Upon receiving her gaze, her face melted from blind vengeance to one of sheer astonishment. Not caring what it meant, Adaryn took the opportunity to press the attack. He grabbed her by the throat and threw her into a nearby burning wall. She cried out as her back slammed into the warped wood. A cry of not only physical pain, but emotional too. In the crimson light of the flames, he got a look at her sad face. The anger was gone, replaced by deep sorrow. She seemed almost familiar to him. His thoughts were clouded however, for the voices were back. Screamiing at him to kill her. Adaryn began to approach her, laughing a soulless, heartless cackle. The woman was terrified, she got to her knees and begged him. That's when she called his name.  
"Adaryn, please! Don't do this!"  
The voices grew louder, as if trying to drown her out. Adaryn faltered slightly. This was all so familiar. He knew this woman.  
"Remember all the good times we had? Remember our home? ADARYN!"  
The world began to swim before his cold eyes. Screams were drowned out by the voices, red-hot flames were blackened out of his vision. He saw nothing, nothing but the face of his lord leering at him from beneath his helmet. He was so close to truely pleasing his master, why was he faltering so. This woman, this frail little girl was preventing him from achieveing his task. The image of his master vanished and was replaced with the weeping visage of the woman. Now was the time. He raised his sword. She looked up at him.  
"Adaryn. This isn't you. Where's the man I fell in love with, the man I married? Remember the flowers and music? The dances?"  
The sword fell. Clattered on the path. Adaryn's hands flew to his head. Memories, visions came flushing through his mind. The woman...Amberlin, smiling. Their home in the city, the wedding. The Scourge around him stopped their wanton destruction and turned to look at the two. Their dead eyes settled on Amberlin. More visions came, of him and his wife hunting down a death knight. The ensuing battle where he saved Amberlin from a lethal blow and tumbled down a cliff. The undead began rushing at them. Weapons and claws raised, still dripping blood from the previous victims. Adaryn was again assaulted by the voices, but he had something new inside him. Some kind of feeling? It was as though he had a reason to...live? Confusion ripped at him. It felt as though his head would explode. The creatures were nearly upon them. Adaryn opened his eyes, the cruel mist gone from them. He felt glorious freedom he had not before realized he missed. The first of the abominations came, and Adaryn met it head on. The voices were still there, though he hardly noticed them. The image of Amberlin was all he saw in his mind. With absolute determination he began the slaughter of his former allies. Amberlin, seeing he was back to himself, joined him. Wave after wave crashed upon them, but the Armsman of Death was apt a title, as no matter how many of them came, just as many fell. In the end, the Scourge was no more. The voices had ceased altogether. Atop a small hill far from the burning town, the two of them sat. Adaryn could not apologize, no matter how much he wanted to. There was no apology for the acts he had committed. She tried to tell him he had no blame to take. But he would not listen. He is and always will be a walking distortion of nature. He would not be accepted anywhere, not the Alliance, and not the Horde. He stood up, Amberlin pleading for him not to go.  
"We can live in the country, start a new life."  
"There is no more life for me, only death. This world does not welcome me, and why should it."  
"I welcome you, all we need is each other."  
"I wish I could believe that. No, I cannot feel love anymore, Amberlin. I know I should feel remorse, but I don't. You still have so much life left for you, mine is over."  
Seeing she couldn't assuade him, she embraced him.  
"Promise you'll come see me?"  
"I shall try."  
They broke apart. Adaryn placed his helmet over his head, covering the pale face and deathly eyes. Amberlin pulled up her hood, hiding the tears that fell across her face. They turned and departed. Adaryn walked on, not looking back, his mind set on one thing, and one thing only. Repay the Lich King in kind, for the servitude Adaryn had done.

The pale mushrooms and sickly trees that defined the Plaguelands sprawled out before Adaryn like tombstones. The vile gas eminating from the blight beneath his feet creating a dizzying fog which would be too much for any normal man, but Adaryn had long since forgone that. He knew the way, it had been engraved into his mind upon his "rebirth". He was in the right spot. He raised his head skyward, and there it hovered. Ebon Hold, the place where he became a puppet. Adaryn did not care about the odds, he knew that once he was in there he would most likely not come out. What did he care, as far as the world was concerned, he was dead already. The sky turned from murky brown to blood red, and the ground began to rumble. Adaryn drew his sword, the time for action had come. Ghouls, tons of them began to emerge from the poisoned earth. As they reached out with their claws, they were soon relieved of their limbs. Adaryn moved through the sea of arms and heads, cutting them down before they could even get a leg up. But there were many, and soon they were upon him. These ghouls were lesser minions, he could send them back to the dirt as easily as he could snap his fingers. But he did not ease up, for he knew this was only the beginning. As the ghouls fell, he heard the call of his former master.  
"TRAITOR! I'LL SEE THAT YOU PAY FOR YOUR TRANSGRESSIONS!"  
Searing pain tore through Adaryn's body. Twisted images of dark rituals passed through his mind. He tried to block them out, tried to think of Amberlin, but the Lich King's power was overwhelming. Why had he come here? What chance did he have? All hope is lost. The remaining ghouls descended on him, prepared to tear him limb from limb. Through the pain, he looked off in the distance. A shadow was there, the one who he had tried to attack when he first woke up here all those weeks ago. Realization hit him. This man, the one controlling the ghouls, he was the one who did this to him. That man turned Adaryn into the monster that almost killed the only person he had ever cared about. As he screamed in righteous anger, Adaryn managed to block out the Lich King's mental attack and charged for the necromancer. Every footfall shot bolts of agony through his limbs, but he didn't care. He remembered now. He remembered the man who offered him life. Life to return to his woman, and keep her happy. Visions of himself broken and battered at the bottom of a cliff entered his mind. A cloaked man approached him, calm in the face of the dying man. Adaryn could barely speak.  
"W-What, do you...want?"  
"Why, to save you. Of course, this would cost you."  
Adaryn coughed up blood, choking on the words as he spoke them.  
"I'm g-grateful for the save..but, w-what's this c-cost?"  
"The only thing you have left, your soul."  
"M-my soul? Hah, haha-urgh"  
"Is it really so much to ask? Think about that dear girl up there, thinking you're dead. You want to return to her yes? To comfort her? I can provide you with the means to do this. All I ask in return is your soul."  
"A-Amberlin, she needs me-AGH."  
"I await your response, but be warned, I doubt you have much time left."  
Adaryn thought of Amberlin. He could deal with dying, he had prepared for that inevitability ages ago. But could Amberlin deal with his death? He couldn't bear the thought of her sadness. He felt the spark of life within him start to diminish.  
"I'll do it, take my soul so that I may see the one I love once more."  
"Excellent."  
The man let lose a brooding laugh that shook Adaryn to his core. What had he done? He should have known this man was evil. What was to become of him, what-  
Adaryn's haunting vision vanished like smoke, as the necromancer had drawn a dagger to defend himself. Adaryn, seeing nothing but pure rage, slashed vigorously at his opponent, but without focus, the man easily dodged his swings. Sharp pangs lit up all around his body as the dark mage danced through Adaryn's deadly assault, stabbing at every opening. Adaryn forced himself to calm down. There was nothing to be gained from dying here and now. Not at the hands of this scumbag. Adaryn watched his adversary closely, using his years of armsman training to pinpoint the exact moment to strike. There! As the cultist made a stab for Adaryn's neck, he ducked and thrust his sword upward. The feel of steel piercing flesh gave Adaryn a shuddering joy. The man seemed unphased.  
"Death...is but only...the beginning..."  
Adaryn felt the energy of life leave the wicked man. As the corpse fell to the ground, a sense of peace settled on Adaryn. He had gotten his revenge. As he turned to face the swarm of undead, they stopped mid-charge to stare at their dead master. Adaryn, using the powers he was unwillingly given, sought to bring the nightmarish creatures under his command. He heard the Lich King's voice, though faint in the back of his mind.  
"YOU WILL NOT LEAVE THIS PLACE ALIVE, ADARYN!"  
The ghouls shook, their rotting minds being taken by multiple sources. Adaryn knew this was a fruitless battle. He sent the few ghouls he had managed to dominate at the rest and tried to escape Ebon Hold's grounds. But it would seem his earlier prediction was true. There was no chance of escaping, for there before him was none other then Darion Mograine. Knowing it was a lost cause, he nontheless readied himself, for if he were to die, he would take every last damned bastard with him. Darion drew his Ashbringer, it's blade a sickly green, one would never guess that it had once been the greatest weapon known to Lordaeron. Adaryn eased into his battle stance, ghouls behind him, and the Ashbringer in front of him. He swung his sword, thoughts of Amberlin, and hope for the first time in what had seemed like years. Hope that she could continue living, and that she would always keep that smile he cherished so much. He would fight and die tonight, but he did it for her. And in the gloom of the dead land around him. He smiled a true, and honest smile. His final servitude, would be the greatest he had ever done.

END 


End file.
